


The Deadly ABCs

by EnthusiasticFish



Series: The Master Killer [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Gen, Mystery, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnthusiasticFish/pseuds/EnthusiasticFish
Summary: A new case takes a deadly toll on the team, but the question is why, and can Tim and Tony figure it out before it's too late? This is a fairly dark casefile story based on a poem by Edward Gorey called the Gashly Crumb Tinies.
Series: The Master Killer [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121030
Kudos: 8





	1. A is for Amy who fell down the stairs.

**The Deadly ABCs  
** by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1: A is for Amy who fell down the stairs.**

He walked carefully into the building, knowing that this could be dangerous, knowing that he should have waited for backup, but he'd been told that it could be either one of them, that there was only so much time that he had to take Tony's place. The building was under construction but nearly complete. At this time of night, no one was working. There should only be two people there...well, three with himself.

_Both our names start with T._

He couldn't get that thought out of his head. They had all been so sure it was only him. Why hadn't they thought of Tony? _Why_?

If only Gibbs wasn't still recovering. He'd know what to do. He'd save the day. He always saved the day. Except for now because he'd almost died himself. If only he was here.

If only there was more time!

He ignored that thought and continued his walk.

Suddenly, he heard a sound.

A voice.

It was a child's voice.

" _A is for Amy who fell down the stairs."_

He looked around. He couldn't see any sign of speakers. So maybe the voice was at the actual location he was trying to find.

" _B is for Basil assaulted by bears."_

It was really wrong to have a child reciting this. Was it a recording or had he taken someone else and forced her to read? He hoped it was the first.

" _C is for Clara who wasted away."_

He couldn't help but think about the fact that there were that many people who had died at this man's hands.

" _D is for Desmond thrown out of a sleigh."_

Then, he had a horrible thought. What if this was the countdown?

If so...when he got to T...

" _E is for Ernest who choked on a peach."_

Only fifteen more letters to go and then...

He started walking faster and faster, losing some of his caution in his fear that he'd be too late.

He saw a flight of stairs and the sound seemed to be coming from there. He started to run.

" _G is for George smothered under a rug."_

He got to the stairs and then, he stopped very suddenly when he felt a wire against his ankle. He looked down. There was a wire. He looked to one side and then the other.

His blood ran cold.

It was a trip wire.

There was a bomb and he'd just armed it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three months ago..._

It was just too quiet. She hoped that she'd got away, but she wasn't out of harm's way yet.

But it was really quiet.

Then, the lights went out.

"Paul?" she whispered.

She heard footsteps.

She started to run. She knew where the stairs were. She could get there before he did.

She could get away.

She was almost there, but then, a hand snaked out of the darkness and grabbed her by the arm in a vise-like grip. He pulled her close and whispered in her ear.

"Where are you going, Amy?"

"Leave me alone. Let me go," she said, her voice shaking.

"Are you sure that's what you want, Amy?"

"Leave me alone!"

"'A is for Amy who fell down the stairs.'"

The hands tightened around her and dragged her forward.

To the stairs.

"No! NO!"

She fought him, but he was too strong.

"Good-bye, Amy. Don't worry. You're only the beginning. You'll have plenty of company soon."

Then, there was a strong push forward.

She only stayed conscious until she hit the first step.


	2. H is for Hector done in by a thug.

**Chapter 2: H is for Hector done in by a thug.**

_Three weeks ago..._

"McGee. Photos," Gibbs said.

"On it, Boss," Tim said.

He knelt down by the body that had been found in an alley in Alexandria. The man was lying on his stomach, one of his hands at his neck, the other close to his chest. There was fabric around the neck. It was very tight. Obviously, Tim couldn't touch it yet, but he could start documenting the scene.

The man was fairly young, probably mid-twenties. Tim thought he looked Latino. He listened with half an ear as Tony and Gibbs got the information from Metro about the body.

"Who found him?" Gibbs asked.

"Some kid who was cutting through the alley to get to school. Gave him a real shock. His father came and picked him up. I can give you the name and address."

"Yes, that would be good," Tony said. "Name?"

"Hector Rodriguez. Petty officer according to his ID. That's why we called you."

"Anything else?"

"We didn't find anything. I mean, cause of death looks like strangulation, based on that scarf or whatever around his neck, but we didn't touch the body. We did pull out his wallet to check his ID, but it was half out of his pocket already. We didn't have to touch him at all. We've kept it roped off so no one else can come in here, but we don't know if anyone else came through before the kid did."

"Did the kid touch the body?" Tim asked. "It doesn't look to me like he's laying how he fell."

"He claims he didn't," the officer said, "but I'd be surprised if he didn't do _something_ , even if it's just that he tripped over him and panicked."

Tim nodded and went back to his camera.

When Ducky and Jimmy arrived, Tim backed off to let them get to work.

"Well?" Tony asked.

"I'll bet he fought back," Tim said. "I couldn't move his hands to tell, but it looked like there might be some damage on his fingers."

"It looks like he just got taken from behind," Tony said. "But it wasn't a robbery. They left his wallet. So either this was random or someone targeted him for some reason."

"Timothy, you can check his fingerprints," Ducky said.

Tim walked back over and knelt down by Ducky. He took one of the hands and scanned it for prints.

"Hector Rodriguez. Petty officer, first class," Tim said. "Twenty-four years old. He was on leave. Originally from Rock Springs, Wyoming."

"Any chance that there are gang ties?" Tony asked. "We've seen that before."

"Nothing in his record," Tim said, "but I guess it's possible, anyway."

"Ready to get him out of here, Ducky?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. I believe that he'll have more to tell us when we get him back."

Ducky and Jimmy carefully placed Petty Officer Rodriguez on the stretcher and got him into the van. Once he was out of the way, Tony and Tim continued to investigate the alley.

"What do you think?" Tony asked. "Botched robbery or a targeted murder?"

"I don't think it was a robbery. His wallet was easily accessible. No one found the body until this morning, and it doesn't seem likely that he was killed in the morning with how cold the body was. Whoever did this had all the time in the world," Tim said.

"I think you're right, but it seems strange to kill someone with a scarf or whatever that cloth was. That's not the usual m.o. of a gang kill."

"Yeah, strangling is kind of strange," Tim agreed. "It wasn't even a garrotte or anything like that. Just a cloth. Whoever did it would have be really strong, unless his neck got broken."

"But how much force would that have taken to break the guy's neck?"

"I don't know," Tim said, "but if you think about how they used to hang people. Usually, the necks would break and that's a drop of a few feet with the weight of the person pulling him down. That's a lot of force to be able to exert with your hands."

"So no broken neck, but he strangled him to death? He'd have to be strong either way," Tony said. "No way would Rodriguez just sit there and let the guy kill him. He'd fight back and that means his attacker would have be strong enough to win."

Tim nodded and they continued to scan the alley. After a few minutes of silence, Tony spoke.

"I think I found where our attacker was waiting," Tony said.

He was pretty close to the entrance in a small alcove. It may have had a door on it in the past, but at this point, it was just a brick wall. Tim walked over and Tony pointed to scuffs and a couple of cigarettes.

"Either our attacker has a vice or this is a popular place to smoke for the people around here," he said.

"Not enough butts around for it to be where everyone comes," Tim said. "Maybe we'll luck out and get some DNA."

He knelt down and picked up the discarded cigarettes while Tony documented the scuff marks.

Once they were done, they packed everything away and headed back to NCIS to get the analysis started.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"The cause of death was strangulation. The ligature marks are very deep, and you can see the hemorrhages in the strap muscles. The killer used much more force than was necessary," Ducky said, a few hours later. "And judging by the damage to this man's fingers and the bruising around his neck, he definitely fought back."

Gibbs looked more closely at the body, leaning over to get a look at Rodriguez' hands.

"Did he get a piece of the guy who killed him?" he asked

"Unfortunately, while he may have, the killer thought of that," Ducky said.

Gibbs' eyebrow went up as he straightened.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that, in spite of being damaged from the attack, Petty Officer Rodriguez has amazingly clean fingernails. Much cleaner than a normal human fingernail. Whoever killed him knew about the possibility and it's clear that he was moved after he was killed."

Gibbs took that into consideration. A random killer didn't think that way. A crime of passion wasn't pursued with such a high degree of consideration for evidence.

"This was planned."

"It does seem to be that way," Ducky said. "Planned and executed well. Perhaps there was more of a fight than the killer intended, but he still was ready for Rodriguez to fight back to some degree."

"So how clean are we talking about?"

"I think he used rubbing alcohol to clean them. If there was DNA, it's long gone."

Gibbs nodded and left Autopsy, his mind going a hundred miles an hour as he headed back up. He started talking as soon as he stepped off the elevator.

"McGee, start looking for any other crimes of strangulation."

"What's up, Boss?" Tony asked.

"Ducky says our killer cleaned any possible DNA off Rodriguez' fingers. He knew what to do to hide himself."

Tim and Tony exchanged glances and Gibbs knew what they were thinking. It was the same thing he was thinking.

Experience.

That never boded well for a murder investigation.

"On it, Boss," Tim said and jumped right into a search for other victims who had been strangled.

Gibbs turned his attention to Tony.

"We got a couple of cigarette butts to Abby for testing. No fingerprints. McGee and I were talking about it, and whoever did this had to have been _really_ strong...unless there was something else holding Rodriguez back, drugs or alcohol or something like that. We know that he fought back, but if he wasn't impaired somehow, the killer had to be strong enough to hold him and strangle him to death. This is not a normal guy."

Gibbs nodded. That made sense.

"His family is on the way out, and his CO should be ready to talk to us."

"McGee, keep on the search."

Tim just nodded.

"On your six, Boss," Tony said.

Gibbs could see that Tim was disappointed at being left behind, but he could do things that Tony couldn't. And he didn't complain because he knew it.

They headed out of the building.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Left at his desk, Tim sighed, but he knew that Gibbs couldn't do what he was doing, and he was better than Tony. So it was one of those times when his skills worked against him. Sort of.

He sighed again and tried to focus on his task. It was important to get this done. If this _was_ a serial killer, it would change the way they approached the whole thing. It would lead to other questions.

Why this man as opposed to any other when he was obviously strong and would put up a fight? Why strangling when it took so much effort? Why here in DC? Was Rodriguez targeted because he was military or was it something else, something about him personally?

All the questions that would come of finding it was possibly a serial killer would be difficult to answer without additional data. So it was best to find out as soon as possible.

It took some time, but he got the results back on fatal strangulation cases. As he searched through the data, he was interested in seeing the cases. Most of them had involved someone already known to the victim. In fact, it looked like those that had been solved were predominantly cases in which the victim had been killed by either a family member or an intimate acquaintance. So either Rodriguez _had_ been targeted or else, he fell into that much less common subsection of strangulation, a person killed by a stranger. Also, most of the victims of strangulation were women or children. Men were rarely killed that way. Many of those that had been solved involved some kind of sexual act. It was possible that Rodriguez' death was related to that somehow, but in the middle of an alley? That didn't seem to fit.

Finally, Tim filtered out all the solved cases and just looked at those that had not been solved. There weren't many, most were manual strangulation, not ligature strangulation. Still, he kept at it, because there might be details that would fit in with what they were seeing with Rodriguez and it would be wrong to give up too quickly. He leaned forward and kept going through all the cases, hoping to find that one elusive piece that could tie it in to what they'd found already.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

By the end of the day, they weren't really in a much better situation than they had been before. Rodriguez hadn't made any enemies that his CO or his unit had known about. His family said that he was never in trouble. There was no involvement in gangs or drugs or anything illegal that anyone knew about or that showed up in his records. Tim couldn't find anything that would put him in with a serial killer, in spite of Ducky's assertion that there seemed to be experience at work here.

"I don't know," Tony said, as they were getting ready to leave. "It seems like it was just a random thug."

Tim stopped.

"Wait. Say that again."

"Say what?" Tony asked. "I just said that it seems like Rodriguez was killed randomly, no matter what Ducky says."

"I don't know," Tim said. "Something about what you just...something. I don't know what I was thinking, but I do know that this isn't starting off with much promise."

"No other random strangulation deaths?"

"Not that fit this situation. None of the features of the victim were the same. The ligature wasn't the same. Location, timing, all that... Nothing seems right to fit with a serial killer, but I don't think Ducky's necessarily wrong, either."

"It's not a serial killer, but Ducky's not wrong when he says it's a serial killer?" Tony repeated. "Maybe you need a real break."

Tim grinned. "I think I do because I swear there's something that I'm missing that I really should know about this, but I can't figure it out."

"Maybe you'll dream about it."

"Oh, I hope not," Tim said. "Bad enough having to see it during the day. I'd rather not have to worry about it at night."

"Good point. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Good night."

Tim headed home and went to sleep very quickly. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about dreams. He didn't remember a single one when he woke up.


	3. I is for Ida who drowned in a lake.

**Chapter 3: I is for Ida who drowned in a lake.**

_Two days later..._

Agent Balboa knelt down by the body.

"Well?" he asked nobody in particular.

Agent Torrance nearly raised her hand in her eagerness to share information.

"Her name is Petty Officer Ida Jane Knight. Did you notice that her name is constructed of names with the first letters falling consecutively in the alphabet? Isn't that cool?"

"Is that relevant?" Agent Jensen asked with a long-suffering sigh.

"It could be," Balboa said. "We won't know until we find out more, Jensen. Don't make me start the Gibbs head slaps. Just because he's abandoned them doesn't mean I can't start where he left off."

Jensen just rolled his eyes and began taking samples from around the body. Balboa could see that he was in need of a vacation. He still hadn't really got over the divorce and the custody fight was just getting started. After this case, Balboa would push him to take the time.

"When's Ducky getting here? It's getting cold out here," he said.

"Dr. Mallard said that he'd be here in a few minutes when I called him!" Torrance said, trying to be helpful, completely oblivious to Jensen's bad mood. ...or else just ignoring it. Balboa knew that Torrance was highly observant and very smart, but she was also nearly as bubbly as Abby and wanted to do her job perfectly. She'd never let Jensen get to her yet.

Jensen grunted in reply.

"Thanks, Torrance," Balboa said. "What more can you tell me about our victim?"

"She was reported missing last night when she missed coming on duty. She's not married and lives on base."

"There's Ducky," Jensen said, pointing.

"Dr. Mallard! Over here!" Torrance shouted, waving.

Balboa could see even Jensen suppressing a smile at his coworker's antics. It didn't help that Torrance was incredibly small, just barely over five feet, and looked like she was twelve years old. It was easy to underestimate her, which, in spite of her generally cheerful nature, was a dangerous mistake to make.

Ducky smiled and waved back and then, he and Jimmy made their way from the parking lot to the beach where the body lay.

"Glad you made it, Ducky," Jensen said. "I don't know if I could stand Torrance's giddiness for another minute."

"Ah, William, still in need of a vacation, I see," Ducky said, with a smile.

"Don't have the days this year," Jensen said. "Used them up already."

"That's unfortunate. Perhaps, you'll just have to get sick."

Jensen couldn't help but chuckle at that. "You might be right."

"Well, Mr. Palmer, you are taking lead today. Have at it."

Jimmy walked over and knelt down beside the body. Balboa watched as he did his initial evaluation, pointing out the indications of how Petty Officer Knight might have died. Torrance hovered, taking notes and watching every moment.

"Well, Mr. Palmer, give Agent Balboa your assessment."

Jimmy stood up and nodded.

"Everything I can see here so far is consistent with drowning. Her body is much colder than it would be on land and so it's going to be hard to get an exact time of death. We're going to have to do some tests back at NCIS to see if there's more to learn. I'm sure we'll get more information."

"Are you ready to move her, then?" Balboa asked.

"Yes. We'll get her out of here now and you can do whatever else you need to do," Jimmy said.

"Perhaps not the most professional way to finish up, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said.

Jimmy grimaced. "It got the point across, though, didn't it?"

Balboa chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Palmer. We got it."

They put the body on a stretcher and moved it to the truck. Then, Balboa gestured for Jensen to check the area beneath where the body had lain while he and Torrance talked to some of the witnesses. No one had seen Petty Officer Knight go into the water. She had only been found when she washed ashore. It wasn't the best beginning, but it was what they had. Privately, Balboa hoped that it had just been an accidental drowning and that it wasn't a murder. Gibbs usually got the bigger cases and Balboa was just fine with that. When they finished with everything they could do at the crime scene, it was time to get back to NCIS and see what they could come up with.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim came into the bullpen and saw Jensen sitting at his desk, working. He and Jensen had started at headquarters at pretty much the same time and so he had always enjoyed some friendship with him. Tim also knew about his marriage falling apart and tried to keep tabs on him.

"Hey, Will," Tim said. "How are things going?"

Jensen just shrugged. "Got a new case."

"Oh, what is it?" He walked over to Jensen's desk on the other side of the dividers.

"Petty Officer Ida Jane Knight showed up drowned in a lake. She was reported missing, but no one saw her go into the water. Seems to have happened during the night, but she washed ashore this morning sometime."

Something pinged on Tim's brain, but he couldn't think of what it was.

"Anything strange about it?" he asked.

Jensen shook his head. "Nope. We checked with her CO. Nothing going on in her life that he knew of. We're going to wait and see what the autopsy turns up. It could have been that she just fell in the water and drowned. She wouldn't be the first, even in the Navy."

"Yeah." Tim furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out what his brain was thinking.

"What's up? Your case going weird?"

"No. It's been a little weird from the beginning. Guy was definitely murdered, but we don't have any motivation for it and there are some indications of an experienced killer, but no other cases to tie it to. It seems random, but the way it was done doesn't seem random."

"That is kind of weird."

"Yeah. I keep thinking there's something I should be knowing about this, but I sure can't think of what it is."

"Ah, it's probably just that you want to solve it."

"Yeah, maybe." Tim shook his head. "But how are _you_ doing?"

Jensen sighed. "I never thought I'd have to go to court for the right to see my own kids. I mean, I can see why it makes more sense to have them live with Donna full time during the school year. I don't want to uproot them and make their lives more difficult than they have to be, but that shouldn't mean that I can't see them on weekends or during the summer. I've always made time for them. Donna's the one who wanted to get the divorce, not me. I want her to be happy, and I didn't even fight her on that, but I want to be able to see my kids!"

"I'm really sorry, Will. Anything I can do?"

"No. Just have to wait for the court date. My lawyer is one of my old college buddies and he's not charging much. He thinks that I'll get visitation."

"Good."

"Hey, McGee!"

Tim turned and saw Tony gesturing.

"Oh, back to work," Tim said and smiled.

"Yeah. Thanks," Jensen said.

Tim ran back over to his desk.

"What's up?"

"Wondering if you were defecting to the dark side of the bullpen," Tony said.

Tim chuckled. "Nope. Just checking in with Will."

Tony sobered a little. "Oh...I'd heard that things weren't going well."

"He says that his lawyer is going to help him get visitation with his kids."

"That's something anyway." Then, Tony smiled again. "Has he managed to dampen Torrance's spirits yet?"

"Not that _I've_ seen. I don't know if _anything_ could dampen her spirits. I swear that if the world was ending she'd still find something good to say about it."

Tony laughed. "If she could see it coming. She'd have to get on her tip toes to see anything. Okay. So we both know that Gibbs is going to expect something. Do we have something?"

"I don't. Do you?"

"No, but there's got to be something. Somewhere. It's not like this guy killed himself. It's a murder! It happened in the city! Why him is the big thing. It wasn't a robbery. It doesn't seem to have been personal, either. Ducky says that the killer had experience, but there's nothing to tie it to any other murder that _you've_ found, and if there was something to find..."

"I'm not perfect, Tony. Maybe I've missed something."

"Well, then, we both have because I can't see anything to explain it."

"Okay. Let's start over," Tim said. "Maybe we'll see something we missed the first ten times."

"Sounds thrilling."

They both sat down at their desks and started going through the evidence from the murder of Hector Rodriguez.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you sure, Ducky?" Balboa asked. "Or should I be asking you, Palmer?"

"I did the autopsy, but Ducky supervised," Jimmy said, smiling. "And this was even before the autopsy itself. It's just from examining the body. There's extensive bruising on her shoulders and one large bruise right in the middle of her back."

"As if someone was holding her under the water," Balboa said. "That's murder, right there. She was found on the shore, though. Maybe she hit something in the shallows?"

"Doubtful," Ducky said. "The water in her lungs is not full of the particulates one would expect in shallow water. This was done in the deeper parts of the lake and then, very likely, the currents pushed her to shore or else our killer brought her to shore him or herself."

"Great. I was hoping for a simple accident. She apparently enjoyed going to the lake at night. Her friends knew about it, but it was always possible that she just made one foolish mistake. Once they're dead, it's always easier to deal with an accident than a homicide. Thanks, Ducky, Palmer. That gives me more work to do, but at least, I have something to work _with_."

He started out of Autopsy, but the doors opened before he got to them.

"Hey, Gibbs. What brings you down here? Another case?"

"Nope. Same one. You?"

"Just found out my drowning victim was murdered. No accident. Gotta start over."

"Better than stalling."

"That's where you're at?" Balboa asked.

"Yep."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

Gibbs strode over to Ducky and began to ask him about the possibility of something being missed the first time around. Balboa headed out and kept going over the evidence in his mind. There was no obvious reason why Petty Officer Knight should be killed, but there were random crimes that happened all the time. Who knew what tipped a person over the line to murder?

He went up to the lab to check with Abby, but unfortunately, there was nothing special about the water and there was nothing in her blood. It was just a case of a murder, but so far, no suspects. However, they'd just got started so he had hope of finding something.


	4. J is for Jethro who took lye by mistake.

**Chapter 4: J is for Jethro who took lye by mistake.**

Tim came into work early, hoping to find something before Gibbs gave him the _look_ that said he wasn't doing enough. He set his bag down and then went to the lab to get some time analyzing the evidence without Gibbs breathing down his neck.

Once he got down to the lab, he brought up, not only the Rodriguez case, but also the Knight case. He had started thinking that the two were related, but he didn't know why, for the life of him. He hadn't told anyone about this idea because he couldn't give any reason for it. Before he admitted to something so illogical, he wanted to figure out _why_.

What did they have in common?

He laughed at himself as he looked at the information. The only thing they had in common was that there were no suspects and no known reason for them to be killed. They were both in the Navy, but one was female, one male. One was Latino, one was Caucasian. Both were single, but Knight had drowned and Rodriguez had been strangled. Something about the lack of oxygen? But no, that didn't fit, either.

He sighed. There was nothing that was getting him any closer to understanding what his brain was trying to tell him.

He gave up and headed up to face the music of Gibbs' disapproval.

When Tim got up to the bullpen, he felt like something was wrong. It was still early enough that no one was really here.

...but Gibbs _should_ be.

"Boss?" he asked, feeling a little silly for just assuming that Gibbs would be hovering somewhere.

Then, he heard a strange sound. He walked forward and then started to run.

"Boss!"

Gibbs was lying on the floor, convulsing. His coffee had spilled on the floor.

The elevator dinged and Tony got off.

"Tony! Call 911! Something's happened to Gibbs!"

Tony looked and dropped his bag. He pulled out his phone and dialed while Tim knelt down as he got closer, the smell he got was not coffee as he had unconsciously expected. It was something else. More caustic. Tim leaned over and smelled the spilled coffee and then, he gasped.

"Tell them that he might have been poisoned. I smell...ammonia or something."

"What?" Tony asked, looking skeptical.

"I'm serious!" Tim said.

Tony nodded and quickly relayed the information to the 911 operator.

"She says that you need to dilute the poison as quickly as possible with water or milk if he can swallow it."

Tim nodded. He scrambled to his desk and fumbled for a water bottle. He had one that had been kicking around for the last few days. It wasn't full, but it would do.

Then, he hurried back to Gibbs. The convulsions had stopped and he was just lying there.

"Boss? Can you hear me?" Tim asked.

Gibbs' eyes opened slightly. His breathing sounded labored and painful.

"Can you swallow?"

He nodded but didn't try to speak.

Tim helped him sit up and then helped him drink as much water as possible. Tony was giving information over the phone. Gibbs was clearly in a lot of pain and his breathing sounded really bad.

"They're coming," Tony said, when he noticed Tim looking at him. "Should be here in a couple of minutes."

"Sooner would be better," Tim said.

Tony came over and kneeled on the floor.

"Boss...how did this happen?"

Tim wasn't sure if Gibbs would be able answer, but if he could, it would help.

"C...off...ee," Gibbs managed to say.

"In your coffee? Is it your usual?"

A single nod.

Thirty seconds later, the EMTs came in. Tony passed on the information while Tim helped move Gibbs onto a gurney. Then, he was gone, leaving Tony and Tim behind, looking at each other in shock.

"What in the world just..." Tony started.

"It was in the coffee, he said," Tim said, getting back down onto the floor. "Get something so that we can get evidence for processing. I can check the pH of it before Abby gets here."

"Okay."

They moved with practiced precision, even though they'd really not had to do it in the bullpen before. Once they had some samples, Tim ran down to Abby's lab. He knew that she had litmus paper on hand. Then, he ran back up to the bullpen and swabbed the spilled coffee leftover to check the pH. First, he found that it was basic (not acidic as coffee should be) and then, when he tested the pH of the coffee, he whistled.

"What is it?"

"A pH of about 11," Tim said, in shock.

"Which means what? High school chemistry was a long time ago, McGee."

Tim swallowed and looked up at Tony. "It was in coffee which is acidic so that would bring down the pH of whatever the original substance was. And a pH of 11 is pretty high already."

"What are you saying, McGee?"

"That someone was trying to kill Gibbs and do it by poisoning him, and probably the only reason he wasn't dead when I came up here is because his coffee diluted the original substance to some degree."

Suddenly, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, Tony smiled.

"Figures that Gibbs would be saved by his horrid black coffee."

Tim couldn't help it. He smiled, too.

"Yeah." Then, the smile faded. "I hope."

"We need to tell Vance about this and get everything to Abby and then..."

"To the hospital. Yeah."

"Okay. I'll tell Vance. You can tell Abby."

Then, Tony was running up the stairs before Tim could stop him.

"Tony! Wait!"

"What's going on, McGee? I saw an ambulance."

Tim looked back and saw Agent Balboa just coming in.

"Gibbs was poisoned. Someone put something in his coffee."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Just now."

"Yeah."

Balboa swore feelingly. "That's low...but that's also kind of scary. I guess he has a lot of people who might hate him, but..."

"...but why now?" Tim finished. "And how did they do it? Gibbs managed to say that it was his usual. So either someone did it there or else he set it down here and someone did it here. Either way..."

"I don't know which one is worse."

"I don't, either."

"Have you told Abby yet?"

Tim grimaced. "No. I need to get the evidence we took down to her, though, and Tony left it to me."

"That doesn't surprise me, but hey, I'll do it. Then, you can get to hospital to find out how things are going, and Abby can call when she gets the results."

For a moment, Tim hesitated. He didn't want to deal with an Abby who was freaking out and possibly hysterical, but he also felt like it was shirking his duties to pass it on to Balboa.

Balboa smiled.

"Don't worry. I've been on the receiving end of an Abby meltdown before. I can handle it. Go on."

"Okay. Thanks."

"No problem. These samples are all from right there?"

"Yeah. The coffee cup, the coffee itself, samples from around. I haven't dusted for prints or anything on his desk."

"I can do that. Document the area, see if anything is out of place. You just go and find out how Gibbs is doing. No point in keeping you here when your mind is there."

"Thank you. Really, thank you, so much."

"My pleasure. If it helps find out who did this, I'm all for it."

Tim nodded, thanked Balboa one more time and then ran up to get Tony so that they could go to the hospital.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Balboa was shocked that something like this could happen right in NCIS headquarters. It wasn't that nothing had ever happened here before, but it really seemed like dirty pool to go after Gibbs using one of his few vices.

Jensen and Torrance weren't there quite yet, so he was working on his own. Others had come by, wondering what was going on and he had told them. Maybe Gibbs would want it to be a secret, but this was important.

When he was finished, it was time to go down to Abby's lab and pass everything over to her. No matter _what_ he'd said to Tim, he wasn't looking forward to dealing with Abby's almost-certain freak out.

"Good morning! What's going on?"

Balboa turned and smiled.

"Torrance. What perfect timing you have."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony and Tim were sitting in the waiting room. Waiting. They hadn't heard anything yet.

"What did Abby do?" Tony asked, after a period of tense silence.

"I didn't tell her. Balboa came in and offered to take that on."

Tony smiled a little. "Lucky."

"Yeah."

"What could have caused this? I mean, I know a lot of people don't like Gibbs, but still, he hasn't done anything lately."

"I don't know," Tim said. "It's kind of surreal, isn't it."

"Yeah."

Tim's phone rang and he answered quickly.

"McGee."

" _Hey, McGee. Thank me for calling you instead of letting Abby do it."_

"Thanks, Jensen. You have no idea. What's up?"

" _Abby ran some tests and it was lye in the coffee. Torrance and I are heading over to the diner to check it out. We'll let you know."_

"Wow. Did she say what the concentration was?"

" _Only that it was high."_

"Thanks."

" _Any word yet?"_

"No. Not yet. I'll let everyone know."

" _Okay."_

Tim hung up.

"Lye. That's what he drank, Tony."

"Someone put _lye_ in Gibbs' coffee?" Tony swore feelingly. "That is just wrong."

The door opened and a doctor came into the waiting room.

"You're here for Agent Gibbs?"

"Yes," Tony said, standing up quickly. "Is he all right? Or is he going to be all right?"

"He's alive," the doctor said. "There was quite a bit of tissue damage in his esophagus, along with in his stomach, consistent with lye poisoning."

"That's what our lab found," Tony said.

He nodded.

"We got as much of it out as possible, but we can't depend on having got it all."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that some of it could get into his bloodstream and if that happens, it could change the pH of his blood which, if it's severe enough, could kill him. So we're going to be watching him very closely for the next day. He's in the ICU and I'm sorry, but no visitors until he's out of the woods. He's unconscious at the moment anyway and will likely stay that way for hours."

"So we can't see him?"

"Not yet. Come back this evening when we reevaluate and if not, then, tomorrow morning."

"He was poisoned by someone we don't know," Tony said. "Can you have him under guard?"

"Absolutely. We'll have security on him until you let us know otherwise."

"Thank you."

"How high was the concentration?" Tim asked.

"High enough, but it wasn't a pure lye solution and that probably saved him."

"Can he survive?"

"Yes. It's too soon to tell right now, but there is a possibility that he'll make it. It's going to be a long recovery for him, even under the best of circumstances."

They both nodded and let the doctor go. Tony walked back and sat down on the couch. He stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds. Tim sat beside him. It just didn't seem possible that this could have happened.

"Swallowing lye," Tony said. "There's no _way_ that could have been a mistake. Someone did that on purpose. We have to find out who it was."

Tim started to nod in heartfelt agreement, but then, he suddenly stopped. That feeling of something being just on the tip of his tongue sprang up again.

And finally, it came to him.

"Tony..."

"What," Tony said flatly.

"I... I can't believe this."

"Yeah, neither can I."

"No. It's a serial killer."

Tony sat up and looked at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't believe that anyone would...but it's too much of a coincidence." Tim got up and started walking out of the hospital, not really paying attention. He wanted to get back to NCIS and see if he was right.

"Hey! McGee! Wait up!"

Tim barely heard him. He was intent on getting back and his mind was consumed by what he'd just thought of. He almost ran over a couple of people on his way out, Tony right behind.

They were out in the parking lot when Tony finally grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Okay, you've got to start making sense, Tim. I'm not in the mood for you being cryptic."

Tim looked at him. "We're dealing with a serial killer. The same person who killed Rodriguez."

"How do you know _that_? Nothing's the same with those two crimes."

"It doesn't have to be. It's all about what's inspiring it." Tim took a breath. "'H is for Hector done in by a thug. I is for Ida who drowned in a lake. J is for James who took lye by mistake.' Hector Rodriguez, a seemingly random killing. Balboa's case, a woman who drowned. Her name is Ida Jane Knight. And now..."

"You said James, not Jethro," Tony said.

"But he almost died from taking lye by mistake," Tim said. "That's what's been in my head. I kept thinking that there was something I was missing, but that's got to be it!"

"What _is_ this that you're reciting?"

"It's a book by this guy named Edward Gorey. It's called the _Gashlycrumb Tinies_."

"What?"

"I don't know. I only know about it because Sarah gave it to me as a Christmas gift a few years ago. She said that I was impossible to shop for since she wasn't willing to find computer stuff and she knew I wouldn't have it already. She said it could give me some ideas for mystery novels. It's an ABC book, but it's really morbid. It's a list of all these different ways that kids could die."

"Kids? Who is this guy?"

"I don't know. It's supposed to be satire, I think. But it goes from 'A is for Amy who fell down the stairs' to 'Z is for Zillah who drank too much gin.' It's in a rhyme which...made it really easy to memorize."

"You memorized it?" Tony repeated. "You're weird, McGee."

Tim smiled a little. "I couldn't help it. There's something about it that I...read it a few times."

"So if you're right..."

"Then, there should be seven murders that may not even seem to be murders all done by the same person and these three make ten."

"And if he's going all the way to the end...that'll be twenty six."

"Yeah."

"Okay. Let's get back," Tony said, stepping into the leadership position as would be required with Gibbs out of commission (hopefully temporarily).

They got into the car and started back to NCIS.

"You'll need to start seeing if there's anything to this, Tim."

"I know, but I can't imagine that there wouldn't be. After all, what are the odds that there would be these three attacks or deaths all in this area, in _that_ order?"

"I know, and I know how Gibbs feels about coincidences, but if you're right, this guy isn't just slavishly following the list. He was willing to change a name from James to Jethro. How in the world do we warn people about that? And also, that means he was watching Gibbs enough to know that he drank coffee _and_ that he goes by Jethro, not Leroy."

"Not necessarily. If he's willing to adapt, then, he could have just picked out his middle name instead of his first name."

"True, but what comes next?"

"'K is for Kate who was struck with an axe.'"

"And who's to say that he'll stick with Kate? Maybe he'd do Katherine or Kaitlyn or Kathy."

"Or even a name further away, but just starting with K," Tim added.

"You can't release a warning like that," Tony said. "It really would send everyone into a panic."

"I know."

Tony sighed. "Even if it _would_ solve our crimes and give us something to search for...I really hope you're wrong about this, McGee."

Tim thought about all the possibilities and the fact that, if he _was_ right, there were, potentially, sixteen more victims to come.

"Me, too."


	5. K is for Kate who was struck with an axe.

**Chapter 5: K is for Kate who was struck with an axe.**

Tim got right to his computer as soon as they returned to NCIS. People wanted to ask questions, but he left that to Tony while he pulled up a list of Gorey's macabre ABCs and started looking for deaths that would fit with them.

At first, even he was a little skeptical. After all, some of these were not just morbid. They were strange. How would one get a guy attacked by bears? He thought about why this might be the m.o. of their killer. Someone wanting to do this had to be planning well in advance of each killing, but what had got him started?

There was no way to know how far back the killing would have started. So he started looking for unsolved deaths or accidental deaths that matched the first seven letters.

Like Tony, he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to be right about this.

After a few hours of searching, Tony came back from wherever he'd been.

"Well? What have you got, McGee?"

Tim suppressed a smile at Tony's tone. He always gravitated toward sounding like Gibbs when he first got in charge. After a little while, he tended to head back to his normal self, but while Tony was a goof in a lot of situations, he always took the responsibility of leadership very seriously.

"Well, if you want me to be wrong, I think you're going to be disappointed, Tony," he said.

"Show me."

Tim nodded.

"These go back three months. There's a woman named Amy Randall who was found dead in a stairwell. She appeared to have fallen. Cause of death was head and spine trauma."

"Where?"

"Charleston, South Carolina."

"None closer?"

Tim shook his head.

"No, not with a name beginning with A, and this is the original, too."

"And A is Amy falling down the stairs?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Keep going."

"'B is for Basil, assaulted by bears."

"And there was something?"

"Yeah, there was. Charles Towne Landing in South Carolina. They have black bears. According to the news story, one of the zoo employees, named Basil Dorson, appeared to have fallen into the bear enclosure and was mauled to death."

Tony just nodded that time.

"'C is for Clara who wasted away.'"

"And you found something?"

Tim nodded. "This is the first one that was definitely a homicide. An old woman who was basically homebound. Clara Ethel Vincent. They found her locked in a closet. Cause of death was judged to be starvation. No suspects. No leads."

Tony swore softly but gestured for Tim to keep going. Tim cleared his throat and continued.

"'D is for Desmond thrown out of a sleigh.'"

"A sleigh. In the southern U.S.? It's not even close to Christmas."

"Well, this is the only one I'm not quite sure of. The name is Desmond Peterson, though. It's a sleigh bed frame, not an actual sleigh."

"How do you get thrown out of..."

"Dumped out a window on the twelfth floor. Bed was found there."

"No leads?"

"No. No fingerprints. Peterson lived alone. No witnesses who saw anyone go to his apartment. Nothing."

"Okay. Keep going."

"'E is for Earnest who choked on a peach.'"

"And?"

"Earnest Thomas choked on a peach pit."

"And it keeps going?"

"Yeah. 'F is for Fanny sucked dry by a leech.'"

"No way."

"Yeah."

"Okay, I don't even want to know. Next?"

"'G is for George smothered under a rug.'"

Tony took a breath and rubbed his hand over his face.

"This is one sick, twisted guy we've got on our hands, then. Have you told Balboa?"

"Not yet."

"We should. This is way bigger than us."

"Yeah, I know. What did Vance say?"

"That if you're right, we might need to bring in the FBI, and I think we need to."

"Well, yeah. Most of these people haven't been military. I don't know if it's just coincidence or if he planned on moving to the military."

"Okay," Tony said again. "I'll call Fornell, but he has to agree to keep us in on it because there is no way I'm sitting back while some nut who tried to kill Gibbs is running around out there."

"Fine by me," Tim said. "I'll get everything ready to send over to them."

"No," Tony said, shaking his head. "Get it ready, but they're coming here. If we send it over there, even if Fornell _wants_ to keep us in the loop, they won't _have_ to."

"Okay."

"So I'll let Vance know where we're at. I'll check with Abby and see if she's got anything from the coffee and the cup and everything."

"We need to look at the first victim, if this is right. That's the one that started it all. Whether that means that something about her turned him killer or he chose her first..."

"Okay. Get what we have organized, first. Then, we'll have something to work with. We're going back to the hospital tonight, and hopefully, they'll let us in."

"Yeah."

Tim went back to work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Fornell and Sacks were sitting at one end of the table. Tim and Tony were at the other end. Balboa and his team, along with Vance, completed the group. Tim finished giving his summary of the previous cases that fit in with the story and then, Tony described the Rodriguez murder. Balboa gave a summary of the Knight drowning, and then, they finished with Gibbs' poisoning.

Then, they waited while Fornell and Sacks absorbed everything.

"So this is a real book?" Fornell asked.

Tim nodded. "I haven't been home yet, but I can bring the book in if you want to see it."

"I think I can get a copy myself if it comes down to that. This could be a nightmare, I hope you realize."

"It already is," Tony said. "Gibbs could still die from the lye poisoning. They don't even know if he'll make it yet."

"You know what I mean. What in the world could possess someone to do this?"

"It doesn't matter, Fornell," Sacks said. "Haven't we seen enough psychos already? Some people are just murderers waiting for the right stimulus."

"I'm convinced that you're right," Fornell said, nodding reluctantly. "We'll start looking into Amy Randall. I can get information more easily from the field office in Charleston than NCIS can."

"We've been open with the FBI," Vance said. "I expect the FBI to do the same. This is in both our jurisdictions."

"Understood." Fornell stood. "We'll get started right now. ...and let me know about Gibbs."

Tony nodded.

"All right."

Fornell and Sacks left. Vance took a breath.

"He's right, you know," Vance said. "This could be a big mess. Can you see any pattern as to where he's going or how he's choosing people?"

"I can't," Tim admitted. "I'm not an expert on serial killers. I just know the book."

"We'll keep going with this," Balboa said. "So far, there's nothing at the diner or here to tell us who did it, but we'll keep looking. If you guys want to get to the hospital earlier in the evening, you can. It looks like it's all one case, anyway."

"Especially if you want to beat Abby there," Jensen said with a bit of a smile.

"Agent DiNozzo, you'll officially be the head of the NCIS team working on this case, but Agent Balboa, you'll be working with him. I want this to be your focus. As soon as the FBI gets us the information they gather on the first victim, we'll see if we can pinpoint our killer's movements. ...and hope that he doesn't get a chance to keep going any further."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony and Tim were able to get out of NCIS before anyone else which meant that they were able to get to the hospital, first, and get a chance to ask about Gibbs before Abby descended in all her frenetic glory.

They headed to the ICU and asked if they would be able to see Gibbs at all. The nurse on duty called for Dr. Johnson, the doctor in charge of Gibbs' care.

"Agent DiNozzo, correct?" Dr. Johnson asked.

"Yes. How is he doing? Can we see him?"

Dr. Johnson sighed. "There was quite a bit of damage to his esophagus, and we aren't kidding ourselves that we were able to prevent all of the lye from entering his bloodstream. We did our best, but it's up in the air as to how badly this could affect him. He's still unstable, but I'll let you back for no more than five minutes. Please don't fight us on this."

"We won't," Tony promised. "We don't want to be in the way."

"All right. This way. Patrice, could you take them?"

"Of course."

The nurse took them back to where Gibbs was lying, unconscious, on a bed. It was a real shock to see Gibbs so...helpless. They knew that he was far from invincible, of course, but it didn't change the fact that _Gibbs_ just never seemed like the kind of person who _could_ get hurt, let alone could be at death's door.

They didn't speak while they were there. They just stood there, staring. There were very few outward signs of how bad this could be. They knew it was all inside and that was frightening enough. When Patrice came back, they both left, feeling a bit of relief at not having to see Gibbs like that any longer. They walked back to the waiting room and saw that Ducky, Jimmy and Abby were all there, hoping to get into the ICU as well.

"How was he?" Abby asked, instantly. "What did he say?"

"He's unconscious, Abby," Tim said. "He didn't say anything."

"What did his doctor say?" Ducky asked.

"That it's still too soon to tell what will happen."

"No! No, it can't be that way," Abby protested. "It's _Gibbs_! He has to get better!"

"I'm sure he will," Tony said, bracingly. "It's just going to take some time. That's all."

"Can we go back, too? Or was it just one group?" Jimmy asked.

"I don't know," Tim said. "You'll have to ask. But if you do get to go back, it's limited to only five minutes."

"And you're not going to try to get around that, Abbs," Tony said, seriously. "If something went wrong suddenly, you'd be in the way and that might just make it harder to help him."

"Who put _you_ in charge?" she retorted.

"Vance, actually," Tony said. "But more than that, I care more about Gibbs getting whatever help he needs than you getting your way."

There was an awkward pause, but finally, Abby nodded in agreement. They went to see about getting into the ICU. When it became obvious that they would, Tony sighed.

"I can't stay here anymore, tonight," he said. "We're not going to make any progress by sitting around the waiting room and Gibbs wouldn't _want_ us to, anyway."

Tim smiled a little. "He'd probably be irritated that we came at all while he's unconscious."

"Yeah," Tony said, with an answering smile. "I'm going to go home and try to get some sleep. Then, I'll be more ready for whatever else we have to do. Bring in that book, tomorrow, okay?"

"I will."

They both left the hospital together and then went their separate ways. Tim went home and fished out the _Gashlycrumb Tinies_. He stared at it for a long time. Then, he sighed and shoved it into his bag to take with him to work the next day. He ate quickly and then went to bed. He stared at the ceiling in the dark, the words of the macabre rhyme running through his head. Over and over again.

Finally, he slipped into a restless sleep, plagued by dreams of the deadly ABCs.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a loud thunk and the sound of splintering wood.

Tim sat up and looked around blearily. He fished for a clock and saw that it was only barely past five a.m.

Had that been someone at his door? Who would be knocking at this hour? And so loudly?

He stumbled out of bed and toward the front door.

He looked through the peephole and saw no one. Confused, he opened the door and gasped in surprise. He was definitely awake now.

There was an axe sticking out of his front door. A large fireman's axe.

And not just an axe.

The axe was pinning a photo to the door. It was a picture of Kate. It looked like the one that had been hanging in the bar with all the other lost agents. He thought he could see pin holes. Maybe this _was_ that picture.

"Kate," Tim whispered. "Struck with an axe."

Under the photo were two short, printed sentences.

_This is your only reprieve. I'm not to T yet._


	6. R is for Rhonda consumed by a fire.

**Chapter 6: R is for Rhonda consumed by a fire.**

Tim looked around, up and down the hallway. He grabbed his gun and then ran to see if he could catch a glimpse of anyone outside. There was no one around. Then, he looked back at the message. Part of him just wanted to groan in frustration. How in the world had this guy known about Kate _and_ known about Tim himself? ...and T?

He thought about it.

_T is for Titus who flew into bits._

Of course, there was nothing to say he couldn't change names as Tim suspected he already had, but maybe this wasn't a threat.

"Yeah, right," he said to himself. "No one is going to see this as anything other than a threat."

Still, he knew he had to call Tony. This needed to be processed in case there was some evidence that could lead them to the killer.

He left his door open but walked back into his apartment and dialed Tony's number, knowing that Tony would probably still be asleep.

The phone rang a few times. Then, Tony's sleepy voice came on the line.

" _DiNozzo."_

"Tony, we have a crime scene."

" _What? Where?"_

"At my apartment."

" _Wait. What?"_ Tony sounded awake, now.

"There's an axe in my door...with a picture of Kate."

" _You said that K was Kate."_

"Yeah. Struck with an axe."

" _But no body?"_

"No. And I don't think there will be one."

" _Why not?"_

"Because there's a message. This is a reprieve."

" _Okay. I'll be over there as soon as I can. Do you think he's still around?"_

"I doubt it, but I'll be watching."

" _Okay. Don't be stupid, McGee."_

Tim smiled. "Smarter than you."

" _Ha ha. Very funny."_

Then, Tony hung up. Tim quickly went back and got dressed. No shower today. He decided to start some coffee brewing. There was a strange feeling of dislocation. He was staring at the axe. He had his gun ready, just in case the erstwhile killer returned. And yet, he felt no real sense of danger. Maybe it was just that while the threat was there, Tim had a cushion of eight people before he needed to worry about himself.

The coffee finished just about the time he could hear Tony coming down the hallway. Tim quickly poured the coffee into two mugs. When Tony got into the apartment, he raised an eyebrow.

"Thought you might appreciate this," Tim said, holding out one of the mugs.

Tony looked like he wanted to be irritated, but then, he walked over and took it.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

For a few seconds, they stood side-by-side, staring at the axe in silence, both sipping at the coffee.

"So what happened?"

"I was asleep. I heard the thunk and thought it was someone knocking. I walked to the door and opened it...and saw the axe. I checked to see if anyone was around, but I didn't see anyone. He had plenty of time to get away because I wasn't really awake until I opened the door."

"How in the world would this guy even know who you are?"

"I don't know. He was obviously watching Gibbs. I guess he could have seen me, too. But I don't know why me and not you."

"Maybe he was at the hospital," Tony said after a few seconds. "We were talking about it in the parking lot and you're the one who figured out the pattern."

"Yeah. Maybe."

Tony sighed. "Just one more complication we don't need. Let's get this done so that we can check on Gibbs before we go to work."

Tim nodded. They finished their coffee and walked back to the door. Then, Tony stopped and looked from the picture of Kate to Tim.

"You didn't say anything about him threatening _you_."

"Maybe that's not what it is. It could just be a warning that he's far from done with the alphabet."

"Oh, come on, McGee. That's not going to fly and you know it. This is a direct threat to _you_."

"Well, we have eight more letters before he gets that far. We'll just have to stop him before then."

"That's pretty glib considering Gibbs was already one of the victims."

Tim raised an eyebrow at the dig. "It's glib because we have time and if he's really sticking with the order, then, I do have eight more letters before I even have to worry about it. Instead of fixating on that part, why don't we see if we can find something?"

Tony saw Tim's raised eyebrow and raised both of his in return.

"Yes, Special Agent McGee."

Tim rolled his eyes and took the camera from Tony. Then, he started photographing the door, the axe and the picture. Tony then moved in and dusted for prints all over Tim's door. Only then, did they actually take the axe and the photo down, bag them and get them ready to take back to NCIS.

"Real threat or not, you shouldn't stay here," Tony said.

"Really? Are you really going to go that far?" Tim asked.

Tony was very serious. "Yeah, I am, because I don't want to deal with another one of my team possibly dying, okay?"

Tim sighed. "All right. Fine. Let me pack some things."

"Good. I'll bet Ducky would let you stay with him, _and_ he has a spare bed which I don't have."

"Good point. I'll ask him, today." Then, Tim stopped. "I just thought of something, Tony."

"What?"

"'L is for Leo who swallowed some tacks.'"

Tony's eyes widened.

"Go pack. I'll call Vance."

Tim nodded. He hurried back to his room to grab some personal things. He really hoped that he'd be wrong about the possibility. None of the other murders had been Navy. Why would the killer focus on the Navy when he hadn't previously?

Regardless, they didn't linger. Tony said that Vance was taking the warning seriously but that there had been no sign of anyone in or around his house so far. Tim got his clothes and they were out of his apartment in just a few minutes.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three days later..._

Nothing had happened to Vance and both Tim and Tony were relieved but still worried. Tim was checking the news every day, trying to find any sign of the killer moving on from K, but there was nothing. Gibbs was starting to stabilize, but he hadn't regained consciousness for any significant length of time.

"Anything?" Tony asked, as he had every time he came into the bullpen.

"No. Nothing."

"Maybe he's done."

"Maybe," Tim said, trying not to be skeptical.

"Yeah, I know. We couldn't possibly luck out like that."

His phone rang.

"DiNozzo." Tony looked at Tim and raised his eyebrows. "Okay. Send him up."

He hung up the phone.

"Fornell has something for us."

"Another case or something else?"

"Don't know."

The elevator doors opened and Fornell strode over and didn't waste any time chatting.

"We were looking into the first victim you suggested, Agent McGee," he said. "And there's something to it."

"What is it?"

Fornell handed Tim a flash drive. He quickly got it up on the monitor.

"Amy Randall died from a fall down the stairs, as you said. The death was ruled suspicious because she was in a building she had no reason to be in. But there was no evidence of any wrongdoing and they closed the case. We talked to her family, and they didn't know much, but they did say that she had a copy of that book you have, Agent McGee. There's a message that says it's from Paul."

"Paul who?" Tony asked.

"We don't know, yet. We're still working on it, but her family doesn't know who it refers to, neither did any of her friends or coworkers."

Tim's computer beeped and he sat down to check it. He read the notification and sobered. Tony noticed.

"What is it?" he asked.

Tim replaced Amy Randall's information with a news story. Fornell looked.

"'Man found dead with tacks in his stomach,'" he read.

"His name is Leonard Stalling."

Tony and Fornell exchanged glances.

"I guess the reprieve is over."

"I guess so. And this one is not military _and_ it was in New Jersey," Tim said. "He's back to moving north."

"I'll tell the FBI offices up that way, then," Fornell said. "What should we be watching for next? I can't remember."

"'M is for Maud who was swept out to sea.'"

Fornell sighed and nodded. Then, Tony got an evaluating expression on his face.

"Swept out to sea...that would mean no body at all. It would take time for that to get in the papers. The person would only be missing to start and that wouldn't fit."

"You think that she's already dead?" Tim asked.

"Could be. Depends on how fast he wants to work. He's already started speeding up, I think. Check it."

"Okay." Tim started a search for anyone who fit the criteria on the East Coast. Tony and Fornell hovered over his shoulder while he worked. He didn't like it when people did that. He wanted to tell them to back off. He might do that to Tony if he was alone, but Tim didn't want to give off an unprofessional vibe to Fornell.

After a few silent minutes, he found it.

"Maud Jenkins. Missing since last night," he said.

"Any others?"

"No other Maud missing on the East Coast. She went missing from Union Beach, New Jersey."

"We'll have to see if that's really it," Fornell said. "What's after that?"

"'N is for Neville who died of ennui.'"

"Ennui? How would you bore someone to death?"

"Trapped in a room?"

"That wouldn't really be boredom, though," Tony said.

"You can't do anything," Tim said.

"Well, I'm not sure you can really die of boredom," Fornell said. "If our killer is planning to work his way through the alphabet, he could interpret that pretty liberally. ...and it's another thing that would take time."

"You want me to search for Neville, then?"

"Do it."

Another few minutes of silent searching brought them to another missing person report.

"Neville David Jamison," Tim said. "Went missing two days ago."

"He's been using his time, hasn't he. It wasn't really a reprieve at all," Tony said, bitterly. "It was just a way to give him a chance to take some more victims. Any others that are time-dependent?"

"No. The rest are all relatively quick."

"Good...but bad."

"Okay, I'm going to get going on the stuff up north," Fornell said. "I have a profiler working on this, and we'll keep looking for who this Paul might be. We'll see if we can track down Neville Jamison and Maud Jenkins. If we're lucky, before it's too late."

"We'll keep up our end," Tony said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

That evening, Tim and Tony went back to the hospital to see if there was any good news. Abby was there almost every free moment, but they had decided to leave early to try to get some time before she descended.

"Hey, Doc. How's he doing?" Tony asked as they came into the ICU.

"He's been awake a bit more today. You can try and wake him up and talk to him. I make no guarantees."

"Is he doing all right?"

"Still uncertain, but it's better."

"So you don't know if he'll really recover, still?" Tim asked.

"I'm sorry. These kinds of injuries have too many possible vectors for causing damage, some irreparable. It would be wrong of me to give you a definitive answer at this point."

"I understand."

"You can go back."

"Thanks."

They headed for Gibbs' bed. His eyes were closed and the machines were beeping.

"I can't get used to seeing this," Tim said, quietly.

"Neither can I," Tony agreed.

There was a silence. Then...

"You...don't have to look."

Gibbs' eyes opened halfway and he managed to glare at them both.

Tony grinned.

"Hey, Boss! Glad to see you conscious!"

"Shouldn't you be working?" Gibbs asked, his voice raspy and barely above a whisper.

"Nope. It's the end of the day. We're off. We can stay here and stare at you all night if we want to."

"...Abby's job..."

Tim laughed. "We beat her here."

"Did you find him?"

"Not yet," Tony said. "Did you have any suspicions?"

Gibbs shook his head, tiredly. Then, his eyes closed and he seemed to fall asleep.

"Don't worry, Boss," Tony said. "We've got it under control."

Gibbs didn't speak again, and after a few more minutes, they left.

"He was awake," Tim said, trying to be confident.

"And he lectured us. He's got to be feeling better," Tony said.

"I hope so," Tim added, quietly.

"When we find this guy..."

Tony didn't finish. Instead, they headed home, ready to rest and start again the next day.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

In spite of all the work they were doing, things didn't progress well. The FBI was working in the northern areas, but it didn't help. They never found Maud, but they did manage find Neville Jamison. He was nearly dead of starvation and would be in serious condition for a long time, but he was alive. The only problem was that, at this point, he couldn't give any information. He just wasn't in any state to answer questions.

That rescue was followed by the discovery of Olivia Rossi who was stabbed to death with an awl. Two days after that, Prudence Gray was, supposedly, accidentally killed during a brawl. No one saw the person who did the killing, and no one really knew what had started the brawl in the first place. Those were both in New York. Then, the body of Quinn Carter was discovered in the Tannersville Cranberry Bog in Pennsylvania.

All the agents involved in investigating the case were frustrated and discouraged. There was a feeling of failing to protect when they could not figure out who the guilty party was. There had been no success in tracking down the Paul who had given the book to the first victim.

The only thing that kept it from being an unmitigated failure was the rescue of Neville Jamison and the fact that Gibbs finally began to show some real improvement to the point that his doctor was cautiously optimistic about his eventual recovery.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stared at his computer screen which was currently displaying every victim. It was getting to the point that the poem was running through his head every waking minute. If he closed his eyes, he could see either the illustrations or the real-life victims. Who would be next? Where? When? Because they knew so little, it seemed almost like they just had to wait and hope.

"Hey, Tim. How's it going?"

Tim looked up and then sighed. Jensen perched on the edge of Tim's desk.

"It's not, Will. I feel like we're just waiting for another victim with the hope that this time there'll be something. We could put out a warning, but how do you warn everyone whose name begins with R that someone might try to set them on fire, at some point, somewhere?"

"At least, we've got _something_."

"Yeah, but it's not much of _anything_. I just can't stop thinking about it."

"Well, when Torrance gets here, maybe I'll send her to you. Nothing gets her down. Get her off _my_ back," Jensen said.

Tim couldn't help smiling a little bit. "You like it. Don't pretend. She's the kind of happy person that isn't really annoying. You only wish she were."

Jensen smiled reluctantly and stood up to get back to work. Then, he stopped and turned back, a serious expression on his face.

"I just thought of something."

"What?" Tim asked.

"Torrance. She goes by her middle name, Daelyn, but her first name is Rhonda, after her grandmother."

"Rhonda," Tim repeated. He stood up and stared at Jensen. "You don't think that..."

"Someone's car is on fire outside!"

Tim and Jensen both stood up and didn't even pause. They ran down and out of the building, both of them somehow knowing that Torrance was the next victim and both determined to stop her from being killed.

When they got to the lot, they saw the flames leaping up from the car.

"That's Torrance's car," Jensen said.

They ran to the car and could see someone inside. The doors were locked, so Tim pulled out his gun and used the grip to break the window on the driver's side.

Smoke billowed out and the flames roared hotter. Jensen got the door open, cutting his arms on the pieces of glass, and reached into the car to undo Torrance's seatbelt when it was clear that she was unconscious. He got it undone and, together, he and Tim pulled her from the car.

They got the fire out on her and pulled her far enough away that she'd be safe if the fire hit the gas tank.

"She's not breathing," Jensen said and promptly began CPR.

Tim pulled out his phone and called 911, reporting on Torrance's condition and the need for an ambulance.

Before the ambulance got there, Torrance began breathing on her own, but she didn't really regain consciousness. They got her taken away and the fire put out and then, there was a moment to breathe.

Tim and Jensen looked at each other and let out long exhales as they sat down on a bench in Willard Park. It had all taken only a few minutes. Just a few minutes.

"We've got to get this guy, Tim," Jensen said. "This is not something we can let keep happening."

"I know."

"What's going on?" Tony asked.

Tim ran his hands over his head, looked at Jensen and then looked at Tony.

"'R is for Rhoda consumed by a fire,'" he said.


	7. T is for Timmy who flew into bits.

**Chapter 7: T is for Timmy who flew into bits.**

Tim was back at his desk, trying not to stare at his phone. Jensen and Balboa had both gone to the hospital to wait for news about Torrance. Jensen also needed some stitches. Tim was waiting for them to pass on news about Torrance. Would it be another deadly page in the story or would she survive? He was trying not to think about it too much, but he couldn't help but remember how Torrance had looked as they had got her out of the car.

"Hey, Tim."

Tim looked up at Tony.

"Yeah?"

"You all right?"

"I'm fine. I wasn't in the fire."

"But you were there."

"We're not making _any_ headway, Tony," Tim said. "All we get to do is clean up after this guy keeps killing!"

"We'll find him. No one is perfect. We'll get him."

"How much longer, though? Maybe he'll just stop after 26!"

Tony sat down by him.

"No. We're going to stop him before he gets that far. We will. I will not accept anything else. Got it?"

Tim sighed and nodded.

"So what's next?"

"'S is for Susan who perished of fits.'"

"Okay. We'll find something."

Then, Tim's phone rang. He looked at Tony and answered it quickly.

" _Tim, she's going to be okay."_

Tim sighed with relief.

"That's great to hear."

" _Smoke inhalation was pretty bad and some burns that'll need grafts, but the doctors say that she'll be okay. We got her out fast enough."_

"Thanks for letting me know. She awake?"

" _No. Not yet."_

"Thanks, Will."

" _Thank you. You were there, too."_

Tim said good-bye and hung up.

"She's going to be okay. It's serious, but she's going to be fine."

"Good. Let's get back to work."

Tim nodded with a renewed determination. They went back out to Torrance's car to see what they could find.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"His name is Paul Ahrendson," Fornell said.

"What? You said you had no leads on him," Tim said.

"We didn't. Now, we do. It hasn't helped us _find_ him, but here's what we've got."

Tim put the information up on the screen. There was a very normal-looking guy staring out at him.

"Paul Ahrendson. Formerly of Boston, Massachusetts. He was a librarian. Was laid off five years ago. Showed up in Charleston, working as a janitor."

"What's his connection with Amy Randall, then?" Tony asked.

"From what we can tell, it seems to be a random encounter. A librarian recognized him. He talked with Amy Randall there."

"Were they close?"

"Didn't seem to be," Fornell said. "The librarian said that they just seemed to be acquaintances."

"Maybe _he_ thought it was more and she didn't," Tim suggested.

"Could be. That's happened before."

"So what about him, now?"

"That's the hard part. We found his apartment. Nothing there to confirm our suspicions. He hasn't been at work for three months. They just assumed that he'd decided to quit. We've already got a BOLO issued for him as of this morning."

"How far? We don't know where he's going to go next," Tony said.

"Entire East Coast. Every murder has been within an hour of the coast, with the exception of the cranberry bog."

"All right."

"There's also the issue of the threat to you, Agent McGee," Fornell said.

"Not until we get to T," Tim said. "We don't even know if it was sincere. It could have just been to throw us off. We haven't had any sign of warnings to anyone else. Right now, let's focus on trying to keep from him getting to S, rather than worrying about T."

"Ignoring it won't make it go away, McGee," Tony said.

"Focusing on it won't make it go away, either," Tim said. "I'll worry about that when I have to. I'm much more worried about figuring out where he's going to strike next and it's not going to be me. It's going to be someone with a name similar to Susan."

"And what about if we don't find her soon enough?"

"Then, maybe you can use me as bait," Tim said. "But let's focus on stopping the next murder, okay?"

Fornell and Tony shared glances that were far too knowing, Tim felt, but they nodded.

Back to work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It had been a long day, and Tim just wanted to go to bed and sleep. He'd gone back to his place after a few days with Ducky and no one had thought to move him out again. He wasn't about to remind them while there was still another letter to go. There had been no sign of someone fitting the S so far. Torrance had tried to give them some help, but she hadn't really got a good look at her attacker. One nice thing was that this latest experience hadn't removed her generally good nature. She was still far too upbeat, considering what happened. Even, Jensen couldn't bring himself to complain about it.

Tim was still not sleeping very well, dreaming of the victims, of the book. If Paul Ahrendson had wanted him to become obsessed, he'd succeeded.

In fact, Tim woke up just after midnight, unsure of what had awakened him. He walked out into his main room and paused when he saw a piece of paper on the floor near the door. He bent over and picked it up.

For just a moment, his vision tunneled.

It was a copy of a page from the _Gashlycrumb Tinies_.

_T is for Tony who flew into bits. There's more than one name that begins with T._

What about the S? Who had that been? How had they missed it when they'd been so careful and so watchful? Then, he noticed another message written on it.

_If you want to save him, you'd better come now. It's your choice which T I use. The countdown is beginning. Don't be late._

Come now?

When had this been put here? What was _now_? Where was it?

He looked more closely at the piece of paper and he noticed that it wasn't exactly like the book. He stared at it for a few seconds and realized that it was a building in Arlington, under construction, but almost complete.

Was this real?

He dialed Tony's number and listened as the phone rang and rang. No answer. Tony wasn't answering and, in this situation, he'd always answer his phone. No matter what.

Quickly, Tim threw on some clothes and ran out of his apartment. He drove to the building.

Belatedly, he realized he should call someone, but what if he was too late?

He called Agent Balboa.

" _Balboa. What is it?"_

"Agent Balboa, Ahrendson has Tony at the new building in Arlington. I'm going in. It's either him or me."

" _Wait. What? Don't go in there alone, Agent McGee. Wait for–"_

Tim didn't listen. He hung up.

He walked carefully into the building, knowing that this could be dangerous, knowing that he should have waited for backup, but he'd been told that it could be either one of them, that there was only so much time that he had to take Tony's place. The building was under construction but nearly complete. At this time of night, no one was working. There should only be two people there...well, three with himself.

_Both our names start with T._

He couldn't get that thought out of his head. They had all been so sure it was only him. Why hadn't they thought of Tony? _Why_?

If only Gibbs wasn't still recovering. He'd know what to do. He'd save the day. He always saved the day. Except for now because he'd almost died himself. If only he was here.

If only there was more time!

He ignored that thought and continued his walk.

Suddenly, he heard a sound.

A voice.

It was a child's voice.

" _A is for Amy who fell down the stairs."_

He looked around. He couldn't see any sign of speakers. So maybe the voice was at the actual location he was trying to find.

" _B is for Basil assaulted by bears."_

It was really wrong to have a child reciting this. Was it a recording or had he taken someone else and forced her to read? He hoped it was the first.

" _C is for Clara who wasted away."_

He couldn't help but think about the fact that there were that many people who had died at this man's hands.

" _D is for Desmond thrown out of a sleigh."_

Then, he had a horrible thought. What if this was the countdown?

If so...when he got to T...

" _E is for Ernest who choked on a peach."_

Only fifteen more letters to go and then...

He started walking faster and faster, losing some of his caution in his fear that he'd be too late.

He saw a flight of stairs and the sound seemed to be coming from there. He started to run.

" _G is for George smothered under a rug."_

He got to the stairs and then, he stopped very suddenly when he felt a wire against his ankle. He looked down. There was a wire. He looked to one side and then the other.

His blood ran cold.

It was a trip wire.

There was a bomb and he'd just armed it.

"Well done, Timmy."

He froze. Somehow, he knew that this was the killer.

The little girl's voice stopped.

"I knew that if I pushed you right, you'd end up killing yourself. Ever since I realized that you were the one who'd found me out, I knew it would be you for T."

"Where's Tony?" Tim demanded. He hated that he couldn't look at his killer, but he didn't dare move.

"He's with Susan."

_S is for Susan who perished of fits._

Tim didn't want to think about the fact that it was probably the little girl who'd been speaking when he came in. Was Tony already dead? Is that what he had meant? Was it that they were both trapped in the same place?

"You have a choice to make, Timmy. You're stuck where you are if you want to live. I'm right behind you. You can take me out with the bomb, if you're willing to die yourself. There are still six more victims. I'm ready for them. Are you ready to put your life on the line to save them?"

"What about Tony and Susan?"

"McGee, don't do that!"

Tim felt his heart sink. Any thought that maybe Tony had just not been able to answer his phone was gone.

"How selfish are you? Do you really want to save your own life at the expense of six others? You've failed to save so many already. How many more?"

"You're the one killing people," Tim said.

"You have five minutes to decide. I'll be back. I think you need some motivation."

Tim felt the presence recede. He looked at the wire again. Was this a sham? The problem was that Ahrendson hadn't faked them out for anything else. He'd been very straightforward about what he was doing.

Killing.

"Say hello, Susan."

There was a brief silence.

"I said, say hello, _Susan_."

"H-Hello."

Tim's heart clenched at the voice.

"Tony?"

"Your coworker wants a response. You had better give it."

Tim heard a grunt, but that was all. ...and it was all he needed. Tony was there, too. He was trying not to speak to make Tim worry more, but it didn't matter.

"You have two more people to think about, Timmy. Susan, tell him how old you are."

"T-T-Ten."

"She has epilepsy."

_Fits._

"Now, here's the thing, Timmy. She's S. S comes before T, but you have a chance to save her."

"And how is that?"

"By killing yourself. If you get T taken care of, I can't go back. I'll just have to go on. ...if I'm still alive, that is. So now, you have extra cause for setting off that bomb. Not only could you save another six people, you can allow little Susan here to go to school tomorrow."

"Don't listen to him, Tim," Tony said. "He's not going to follow through on anything he says. He's got a gun."

Tim heard another grunt. He turned his head as far as he could, but he still couldn't see Tony or Susan or Paul. He turned the other way and caught just a glimpse.

A desperate idea began to take shape in his head.

"You have three minutes left to decide. Then, poor Susan will pay the price for your indecision."

Tim heard the whimper, but he tried to ignore it. There would be only one shot at this because he would either be dead from a bomb or dead from a bullet if this didn't work out like he was trying to plan. At the same time, he had no idea of the strength of the explosives and he might just kill everyone by doing this.

He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the sounds that might tell him where Paul was standing.

"Two minutes to go, Timmy."

"We're all dead, anyway, Tim."

That wasn't comforting, but in a way, it did help because if they were all dead, then, it didn't matter if he tried or not.

So he could try and hope it worked.

"Ninety seconds."

There.

He had it.

He hoped.

This man had killed a lot of people.

He had to be stopped.

Tim turned and leapt back toward where he prayed Paul was standing, knowing that he might not be able to get him, knowing that he might get killed by Paul or by the explosive.

...but knowing that he had no other option at this point.

He heard the click.

He heard the shot.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Tony had hated that he was stuck doing nothing while Tim was standing with his leg against a trip wire. He hated that he was being used to force Tim into a decision he shouldn't have to make.

He really hated _all_ of that.

At the moment, though, he was on the floor, his hands cuffed behind him and a ten-year-old girl cowering beside him while a serial killer was trying to force Tim to essentially commit suicide.

Then, he noticed Tim looking back and forth over his shoulder while Paul was taunting him with the time he had left.

Susan wasn't tied up, but she wasn't going to start running when Paul had a weapon.

Then, he saw something change in Tim's stance. He wasn't sure what it was that he was seeing, but he had a sinking suspicion that Tim was about to do something desperate and stupid. And if Tony was right, the slightest error would leave Tim dead.

But also, if Tony was right about this, they were all at risk. He looked at Susan and made eye contact with her. She was terrified.

"Move behind me," he said softly.

"Ninety seconds!" Paul said, with a sadistic grin on his face.

"Move behind me," he whispered again.

Susan nodded and shifted as quietly as she could so that she was behind him. Tony struggled to sit up.

Then, suddenly, Tim turned around and leapt at Paul, but his aim was a little off. As he did, Tony heard the click and he rolled over trying to shield Susan from the blast. Susan screamed and huddled against him and he felt the heat wash over him and the shock wave, along with some debris.

In the midst of that, he could have sworn that he also heard a gunshot.

As soon as the blast quieted down, he rolled back. Both Tim and Paul were lying on the floor, unmoving.

"Tim!" he said. "Tim!"

Paul Ahrendson looked dead. Tony didn't know if he was, but he had no interest in that. He wanted to know if Tim was alive.

"NCIS!"

Tony heard the voices from outside and was relieved that he recognized them.

"In here, Agent Balboa!" he called. "Susan, these are my friends. We're about to get out of here."

"Can I go home?" she asked, whimpering.

"Yes. You're going to go home," Tony said.

Susan started to cry as Balboa and Jensen came running into the building, guns out, ready for anything.

"Check Tim," Tony said. "And maybe one of you can get me out of these cuffs."

Balboa ran over to Tony while Jensen went to Tim. Tony watched as Jensen pulled out his phone and called for an ambulance. He was out of the handcuffs in a moment, and he would have run to Tim right then, but Susan was still there, crying. Balboa was checking Paul.

"Are more people on the way?" he asked.

"Yeah. But I think we'll need Ducky for this one," Balboa said, looking at Paul.

"Good," Tony said. "I hope he rots."

"He will, now. This our guy?"

"Yeah. He wanted Tim to be T and this is Susan."

Balboa nodded in understanding. He walked over to Susan and knelt down in front of her.

"Hi, Susan. I'm David Balboa. Do you know your parents' phone numbers?"

Susan sniffled and nodded.

"Good. Let's go out of the building and you can give them a call. I'm sure they'll be really glad to hear from you."

"Okay."

Balboa put a comforting arm around her shoulders and started to lead her out.

"You all right, DiNozzo?" he asked.

"I'll be fine."

Then, Tony hurried over to Jensen.

"I heard a shot," he said.

"It must have missed," Jensen said. "He's alive, but..."

Tim wasn't moving. His jacket was smoking a little bit.

"Tim, come on, man. Snap out of it," Tony said.

He didn't dare shake Tim at all, for fear of aggravating any injuries he might have. Jensen clearly felt the same. Tim was still lying prone on the floor.

"What happened?"

"Ahrendson was trying to get Tim to blow himself up. He was supposed to be T."

"And the girl was S?"

"Yeah."

Jensen swore feelingly. "She's about the age of my oldest."

"Ten years old."

He nodded.

"I can't ever understand people who are willing to kill... at all, but especially kids."

"Yeah."

Tim suddenly moved a little bit and moaned.

"Tim!"

There was a shaky breath, but no words.

"Tim, you're still alive. You're an idiot, but you're still alive and I expect you to stay that way."

"T-Try to...do that..." he whispered.

"Good. You got him, Tim," Tony said.

"Can't...move..."

"You'll be fine," Tony said, although he and Jensen exchanged concerned looks.

Faintly, they heard a siren and in less than a minute, the EMTs were coming in to evaluate Tim's status and get him to the hospital. As soon as they were gone, Jensen sighed.

"I don't know, Tony. It didn't look very good. He wasn't moving. He said he couldn't. You think that means..."

"No," Tony said. "He was hurt, not paralyzed. He's going to be fine."

"Just saying it doesn't mean it'll happen, you know."

Tony grimaced and got to his feet. "You need to hang out with Torrance more."

"Positive attitude didn't help her much, either, did it."

"She's still alive and she's still happy," Tony said. "That's one step ahead of you. I'm getting out of this place. I can't wait until this is over."

Tony walked out of the room and out of the building. Metro was just pulling up and Balboa was sitting with Susan. He was like Gibbs in that he didn't seem like he would be, but he was really good with kids. He sat down to wait until he could leave. This whole thing was pretty terrible. What he really wanted was to wake up and have this never have happened.

He sat down and waited for a few minutes while Metro and the FBI and NCIS were wrangling with each other. He didn't want to be involved in that. What he was thinking about was how this case had turned out.

"Tony?"

Tony jumped and looked up. Balboa was standing in front of him.

"Yeah? Everything all decided?"

"Hardly, but you don't need to be here. We've got plenty of law enforcement on hand. You'll have to give a report on everything that happened, but you should be at the hospital with McGee and Gibbs."

"You sure you don't need me here?"

"Positive. Jensen's here and Ducky will be here in a little while. Fornell and Sacks just showed up and Metro's here, too. We could do with a few less cops, actually."

Tony smiled.

"Look, I've got to hang out here until Susan's parents come and you don't have a car. I'll have Jensen drive you over."

Tony grimaced, and Balboa smiled in response.

"Yeah, I know. He _really_ needs a vacation. I'm going to give him some of my personal days after this, but he does care. He just doesn't show it very well."

"I know."

"I'll tell him to ease off and you can give him a little break and you'll get to the hospital in no time."

Tony chuckled a little. "All right."

"Good."

Balboa went back to the building and Jensen came out a few seconds later. He walked over.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

They got in the car and Jensen drove him over to the hospital. Neither of them spoke. Tony could only guess that Jensen had been lectured a little bit about his dour attitude, and Tony didn't want to needle him.

When they pulled up, Tony started to get out.

"Thanks for the ride."

"Hey, Tony."

He paused. "Yeah?"

"Let me know how he is, okay? I'm worried about him, too."

"I know. I'll call."

"Thanks."

Then, Tony walked into the hospital. He was told that Tim was still being evaluated and he would have to wait. So he settled in the waiting room, hoping for good news.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was two more hours before anything happened. Tony was starting to relax enough that he was even getting tired. Of course, it was around four a.m., so he could be justified in being tired.

"Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony heard the voice, but the words didn't really register.

"Agent DiNozzo?"

A hand on his arm startled him out of his doze. He sat up and blinked a few times.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"I have some news for you about Agent McGee."

 _That_ woke Tony up. He blinked again and looked around. There was a doctor sitting beside him.

"Is Tim okay?" he asked.

The doctor smiled. "Well, he'd probably disagree, but he is _okay_. He's not great. He got a serious concussion. The burns are painful, but minor. He has some stitches."

"He said he couldn't move before."

"That was likely due to the initial trauma. He just couldn't think about what to do to move. We did check his spine and there's no sign of any damage."

"That's great."

The doctor nodded.

"Now, he's just starting to wake up, but he's still pretty out of it."

"I can handle that."

"Then, come on back."

Tony got up and walked with the doctor a hospital room. He was relieved to see that there was nothing to indicate serious injury, but Tim was still definitely not in the best shape.

"Agent McGee, you have a visitor."

Tim's eyes opened and he was definitely not quite all there.

Tony walked over and sat down by him.

"Hey, Tim."

Tim looked at him for a few seconds.

"Hey, Tony."

"How are you feeling?"

"Terrible."

"Serves you right. What were you thinking?"

Tim was silent for a few seconds. Then...

"I don't know."

Tony smiled.

"You're just a hero, Tim. What can you do?"

"I am?"

"Yeah."

"I feel terrible."

"You'll feel better later."

"Okay."

Another long silence. Then, Tim's brow furrowed.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"I'm fine."

"There was a girl. I heard her."

"She's fine. Scared but fine."

"She was S."

"She's not. Ahrendson is dead."

Tim appeared to give that due consideration. Then, he nodded.

"Okay."

Tony smiled.

"You're going to be fine, McGee. Just wait. By tomorrow, you'll be complaining about stuff again."

Tim gave a weary smile, although Tony wasn't sure that he'd actually understood everything.

Then, his eyes closed and he was asleep again. Tony looked at the doctor.

"Don't worry. He'll be sleeping a lot for the next few days. For now, we'll be waking him up every couple of hours to check on him. He's going to have to take it slow, but he'll recover. If you want to stay here, you can. It'll give him someone to lean on when he wakes up."

"Okay, but I have one other visit to make, first. Then, I'll be back."

"That's just fine."

Tony got up and walked to the ICU where Gibbs was still being kept. He got permission to go in and walked back to the bed.

"Hey, Boss," he said, softly.

Gibbs' eyes opened and he looked more alert than he had.

"Early, isn't it," he rasped.

"Yeah. It's over."

The eyebrow raise was heartening because it was exactly what Tony would have expected Gibbs to do with that kind of declaration.

"Ahrendson tried to make McGee into his T murder. He rigged a bomb in a building and lured McGee there."

"How?"

"He broke into my place and took me," Tony said, grimacing at remembering how he'd been taken so easily. "Dragged me there, and he'd also kidnapped a little girl. Susan. She was going to be his S, but he tried to get McGee to kill himself to save her and me. He tried to stop it, and he did, but he's been hurt pretty bad. Ahrendson is dead. He was standing too close to the bomb when it went off."

"Good," Gibbs said.

"Yeah, but now, we have to wait and see how things go for McGee. How about you?"

"Tired," Gibbs said. Even with how taciturn he usually was, this was pretty terse and Tony knew it was because of the damage to his throat tissue. He'd talked more before, but there were times when it hurt more than others. He was being very careful. He had a long road ahead of him, even now when he was starting to recover.

"I'll let you go back to sleep. I just wanted to let you know. It's over."

"Good," he said again and closed his eyes.

Tony left him to his sleep and went back to Tim's room. The others came later, with Abby fretting as usual. Tony had to go and give reports on everything that happened, but then, he came back, trying to be there as much as possible.

Tim started to recover after a few days. Gibbs still faced a long recovery, and there was damage that still needed healing. However, he was getting better which was a relief.

All in all, things were better than they had been, even if they weren't great.


	9. Z is for Zillah who drank too much gin.

**Chapter 9: Z is for Zillah who drank too much gin.**

_Two months later..._

Tim left NCIS alone, for once. Physically, he was pretty much fully recovered. It had taken time, but the stitches were out, the bruises had faded to yellow and he could roll onto his back without any problem. However, Tony was still hovering like a mother hen. People would stop to talk to him about everything that had happened. Balboa and Jensen kept asking him how he was doing. It was just more than he wanted to deal with.

Torrance would be coming back on desk duty about in about a week, and Gibbs was finally scheduled to come back to work in a limited fashion in the next couple of weeks and Tony had declared that this meant it was really over.

Tim couldn't think the same way. After all, fourteen people had been killed by Paul Ahrendson. The worst was that they couldn't even give a definitive reason why. Searches had revealed nothing more than casual contact with Amy Randall before her death. There was no sign of aberrant behavior before the killing spree had begun and nothing in his apartment to explain what he had thought about what he was doing. They only knew that he'd been careful in planning every step.

Tim had thrown away his copy of the book, not wanting to see it ever again. Not that it really helped. He still dreamed about it most nights. He couldn't help but feel that this whole thing had been a failure, _his_ failure. Yes, they had caught him, but not through any real police work. It was only because he had decided to target a particular person. If he had chosen a random T name, he could have continued to get away with it, all the way to the end.

_Zillah who drank too much gin._

Who knew how he would have done that.

Suddenly, Tim decided that he wanted a drink. He'd been trying to let himself just slowly deal with what had happened, but right now, he didn't want to deal with it at all. It took a lot of effort and he didn't enjoy it. He was just tired of dealing with it, and he happened to think that Zillah had the right idea. He'd never tried straight gin before.

There was a first time for everything. Decision made, he drove home, parked his car and then walked to a nearby bar. He turned off his phone for probably the first time in years, deciding that it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to have to go back into work for any reason. He would risk people getting mad at him for that. He'd never done it before. He hadn't heard his phone before but never intentionally. He sat down at the bar.

"What can I get you?"

"Gin."

"And?"

"And nothing. Just gin. The good stuff. On the rocks. That's it."

"Okay."

The bartender put the drink down and Tim sipped at it. It was surprisingly not bad. He kept drinking it and when he finished the first glass, he ordered another one. And then, another. And another.

"Drinking without me, Tim?"

Tim looked up.

"Tony, how did you know I was here?"

Tony sat down beside him.

"You weren't at your place. Your car was."

"And you just assumed I'd come to a bar? Why? I don't go to bars. That's you. I stay home. Alone. All alone. By myself."

"What are you drinking?"

"Gin."

Tony raised an eyebrow. Tim just shrugged. He'd had enough at this point that he didn't care what Tony thought about it. In fact, he rather thought that if he had one or two more, he wouldn't be thinking about _anything_ at all. That was his goal and he'd almost reached it.

"How many is that?"

"Four. Soon to be five. Or is it five soon to be six? I can't remember."

"And when are you stopping?"

"When I'm stupid drunk."

"Why?"

"Because I'm tired of thinking. I always think and if I drink myself under the table, I won't have to think for the rest of the night. I'm pretty sure I'm almost there. I'm starting to slur."

"And how would you get home?"

Tim grinned. "I'd stagger."

"Come on, Tim. This isn't you."

"Yeah. It's _you_ , but I decided that I wanted it. Why should _you_ have all the fun of getting drunk and having a hangover?"

"I don't think of having a hangover as being fun, Tim."

Tim laughed. "Sure it is. You're so miserable you can't think of anything else."

"What's going on?"

Tim grimaced. Tony was ruining his pleasant buzz. He was being too serious. He signaled the bartender for another glass.

"To Zillah who drank too much gin," he said, raising his glass in the air.

Tony reached out and pressed the glass back to the bar.

"Tim."

Tim tried to lift the glass again, but Tony wasn't having it. Tim took a breath and stared at the glass.

"It's not really over for me," he said, finally. "I can't stop thinking about it. It's always there in the back of my mind. Fourteen people were killed by this guy. Fourteen. It was almost sixteen. Or seventeen or eighteen. We didn't really stop him. He slipped up. He was stupid. That's the only reason we got him. Fourteen people dead because we couldn't figure it out. A to T. That's how far he got. I spent so much time staring at that stupid book that I can't get the pictures out of my head. The pictures and the real thing, too. I can't stop thinking. But a couple more drinks and maybe I could stop thinking about it for a night. It would be a nice vacation. Jensen got a vacation. I can have a night."

He sat there staring at the glass, knowing that he shouldn't want to drink anymore. ...and also knowing that, in truth, he really _didn't_ want to drink anymore. He just was doing it for lack of any better plan. Now that he was at least halfway to his ultimate goal, he felt like it would be a waste not to finish. He made another attempt to lift the glass, but Tony's hand hadn't moved away and he couldn't bring himself to make enough of an effort to get it up.

"As someone who has done exactly what you're trying to do, McGee, I have to tell you that it doesn't work. It really only makes things worse."

"Yeah, I figured that."

"Then, why do it?"

"Because I wanted to just be stupid and not think for while. Can't I do that? Even just once? I'm so tired of thinking. You get to do it all the time. Can't I have it just once?"

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. Tim thought about what he'd just slurred out and decided that it might have been a tad insulting. Oh, well.

He could see that Tony wasn't going to let him keep drinking, so he pulled out his wallet and paid for his last drink. Then, he got to his feet and started for the door, ready to stagger home as he had said he would.

Tony got up and transferred his grip from Tim's glass to his arm. In fact, the grip was less supporting than it was controlling. Once they got outside, Tim tried to pull his arm away.

"Look, Tony, you got your way. Now, let me go home!"

"No."

"Why? And why in the name of Ned did you think I would be at a bar? I'm never at bars alone. I only go out with other people. Why?"

"Because you're not over it."

"Yeah? And? What does that have to do with the price of eggs?"

"Eggs?"

"Anything."

"It has everything to do with it because you're not over it and you're not ready to be alone."

"I've already been alone. Lots of times. It's been weeks since all that ended."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry. I should have paid better attention."

Tim just laughed humorlessly.

"Yeah, good job, senior field agent. Look, I'm _fine_ , Tony," Tim said, wobbling more than he would admit to. "I didn't drink as much as I wanted to, but I'm sure I'll still have the hangover tomorrow. Let go!"

"No," Tony said. "You're not spending tonight alone."

"Why are you being so annoyingly concerned?"

Tony smiled. "Because I'm the senior field agent."

"Let go."

"No."

"Then, what's going to happen?" Tim asked, sulkily.

"What's going to happen is that you're going to come with me and watch a stupid movie and fall asleep on my couch. Then, you're going to stop pretending that everything is fine and if you need help, you're going to tell me. All right?"

"No. That's not all right," Tim said. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"Not when you're stupid drunk."

"I'm not stupid drunk yet. I'm just... unintelligently drunk. I think I had at least two more before I'd be stupid drunk."

Tony let him go for a moment and looked him right in the eye.

"Be honest, Tim. Is this really what you want for yourself? Even temporarily?"

Tim sighed. "No."

"All right, then. You can think about what movie you want to see on the way to my place."

Tony dragged Tim to his car and drove them to his building. Then, he dragged Tim up the stairs to his apartment and forced him to sit down on the couch. As he sat there in an alcohol-induced fog, Tim let his mind wander, and to his disappointment, it settled on...

"'U is for Una who slipped down a drain. V is for Victor squashed under a train. W is for Winnie embedded in ice.'"

Tony came back into the room and sat down. Tim didn't look at him. He just stared at the ceiling and continued to recite the final letters.

"'X is for Xerxes devoured by mice. Y is for Yorick whose head was knocked in.'"

Then, he stopped and sighed.

"And?" Tony asked, after a few seconds. "What's the last one?"

"'Z is for Zillah who drank too much gin.'"

"Well, then, be smarter than Zillah. We're going to watch _Condorman_."

"I thought I got to pick."

"Not this time. Maybe next time."

Tony started the movie going and Tim found himself slumping lower and lower on the couch.

"Tony, why do people take something that is meant to be depressive when they're already depressed? What kind of sense does that make? Why would it make anyone feel better?"

"It doesn't. You're smart enough to know that already," Tony said. "Why did _you_?"

"I wanted to see if it would work."

"And?"

"And it doesn't. I still feel terrible."

"Could have told you that."

Tim just sat there and stared at the TV, not really hearing anything from the movie. Eventually, he wasn't seeing anything, either.

Because he fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a beam of light hitting him in the eye and going off like nuclear missile. He groaned and tried to block the light.

"Good morning to you, too. How's that hangover?"

Tim groaned at the voice and didn't answer. Mercifully, the light vanished.

After a few minutes, he felt like his head wouldn't explode if he opened his eyes. He tried it and sat up, still groaning.

"Still glad that you tried to drink yourself to death last night?"

"Shut up, Tony," Tim said.

"I'll take that as a no. You want to talk about it, now that you're sober?"

"No."

Tim leaned forward and closed his eyes.

"Hey, Tim. Come on. Why did this get to you so much? It's not like we haven't had some major scum to deal with before."

"I don't know," Tim admitted. "It was like...like I was failing somehow because I was the one who knew the book already. And there was nothing I could do to stop him. It was already too late. Maybe Gibbs wouldn't still be trying to get better if I had been able to think faster. Maybe someone else could have done better. And then, at the end of the day, there's still all these dead people. I can't stop thinking about them. And you don't have to tell me that it's not like that. I know."

There was a pause.

"Well, thanks for stepping on my line, McGee."

Tim laughed a little.

"I am trying to get over it."

"It's just not happening yet?"

"Yeah."

"Well, next time you feel that it's too overwhelming to think about, call me instead of going to a bar, okay? You just don't have the knack for getting stupid drunk."

"If you hadn't interrupted me, I would have made it."

"No. You'd probably be dead already. You were already stupid drunk last night when I got there, McGee, and the bad thing about being stupid drunk is that you can't tell anymore."

"And you're an expert because...?"

"Because I've done it. And you don't need to follow my example in this one thing."

Tim sighed.

"I know."

"Good. So lesson learned? No more stupid drinking?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now, how are you feeling?"

"Terrible."

Tony chuckled. Tim resented him being so chipper.

"Good. Lesson learned. I'll make something that'll take the edge off the hangover. Won't cure it, but it'll be better."

Tim heard Tony get off the couch. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for the head-pounding, stomach-unsettling feeling to depart. It was a good thing that it was Sunday and he didn't have to go anywhere or do anything.

After a couple of minutes, he heard Tony come back.

"And Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"I know you said you know this already, but all this wasn't your fault. You gave us somewhere to start and without that, maybe he _would_ have got all the way to Z. And then, who knows what he would have done next?"

Tim forced his eyes open and he looked at Tony. He had a glass of something and plate with toast on it. He handed them to Tim who looked at them for a long time.

"Thanks, Tony."

"You're welcome."


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Two weeks later..._

Tim walked into NCIS, feeling much better than he had. He was finally getting back on an even keel and he did credit Tony with a lot of that.

He walked to his desk and sat down.

The elevator dinged, and Tony came in.

"Morning, McGee. How are things going?"

"Fine. You seen Gibbs yet, this morning?"

"Nope. Doc apparently said he had to stay home another week. I think he's irritated that he still isn't back to normal."

"I'm sure."

"I picked up the mail," Tony said, setting a couple of envelopes on Tim's desk.

Tim raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Why?"

Tony grinned.

"Don't get so suspicious. I was just down there already and I figured I could get it once."

"Right."

Tim picked up the envelopes and noticed that one had no return address.

"I wonder who this is from," he said, opening it up carefully...just in case.

There was a single piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"What is it?" Tony asked.

Tim paled as he read the note.

_Ahrendson was only the first student. Can you find the master? What scares you, Agent McGee?_

_A is for Acrophobia_

_The Wordsmith_

He looked up at Tony and wordlessly held out the note.

Tony read it and then met his gaze.

"Another one?" he asked.

"The master," Tim said. "We never knew why Ahrendson got started. There's another serial killer out there."

FINIS!


End file.
